


SASO Bonus Round Fills — Haikyuu!!

by kiyala



Series: SASO 2016 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 15,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of <i>Haikyuu!!</i> fills written for the Sports Anime Shipping Olympics 2016 bonus rounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated as fills are written over the course of SASO2016.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt:](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3525553#cmt3525553) _when Iwaizumi and Oikawa first held hands_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 626w

Physical contact with Tooru is not something that Hajime is used to thinking about. They've known each other for their entire lives and some things just come naturally because of it; like Hajime's instinctive ability to differentiate between when Tooru is putting himself down to be facetious and when he truly believes what he's saying. He knows when to push Tooru, when to pull him along, when to be a little rough with him because it's the only way he'll stop for long enough to actually pay attention to what Hajime is saying to him.

He knows Tooru, like the back of his own hand. Better than himself, he thinks. He likes this fact, he's secure in it, and so when he starts paying attention to Tooru's hands for a little longer than necessary, he notices it immediately. It throws his off balance. He's comfortable in the knowledge that he loves Tooru; that much is obvious in the time that they always spend together, the way that Hajime knows when to open his arms, letting Tooru shuffle into his space for a quiet moment of comfort. He's used to it. Perhaps that's why this throws him off just as much as it does.

There's a difference, he realises, in being prepared to comfort someone, and actively wanting to make them smile.

These days, it's all Hajime can ever think about in his spare time.

He wonders what it would be like, to earn Tooru's smiles not with jokes or pranks, but a small, quiet gesture instead. He wonders what it would be like to make Tooru smile just because they're looking at each other, because they're in a moment together and it's all that either of them really need at the time.

He thinks about it when he watches Tooru gesticulate as he speaks. Tooru's fingers are long and beautiful, and Hajime wonders what it would feel like to reach out for them and hold on, twining them with his own.

Perhaps it shouldn't be this difficult to find out. He could easily just reach out and take Tooru by the hand next time instead of grabbing him by the wrist or by the shirt to pull him along, but that's not how he wants to do it. It's just not the same context, and he doesn't know when the right moment will be, but he'd rather wait for it than mess things up entirely.

When the moment finally comes, it's on an afternoon that doesn't outwardly seem any different to any other. Hajime knows, though. He can feel it in his very core; he can tell that this is right.

It's a week after they've suffered yet another defeat against Shiratorizawa. Hajime knew that it couldn't be directly after, with their wounds still too fresh, but it's been a week of even more practice, of regrouping and rethinking and trying out new things. Tooru isn't upset, but determined, and it drives the rest of the team forward as well.

They're walking home, with the sun low in the sky, painting everything with a soft orange glow, and Hajime doesn't let himself hesitate. He reaches out, taking Tooru's hand into his.

Tooru stops in the middle of what he's saying, his eyes going wide for a moment as he looks down at their joined hands. Then, he tightens his grip on Hajime and smiles.

For a long moment, that's all either of them can really do; they stand there, half turned towards each other, their hands joined in the space between them, and smile together.

Hajime realises that he's been wrong about this whole thing. He's always made Tooru happy, just by being there. He should know, because Tooru makes him feel the exact same way.


	2. Dog Dads (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3557809#cmt3557809): _Iwaizumi and Oikawa adopt a puppy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 643w

Tooru is quiet the entire way home.

Hajime keeps an eye on him, glancing at the rear view mirror, to see Tooru sitting in the back seat of their car, his arm resting on the top of the small dog carrier, his back bent to look through the bars.

"He's not going to disappear if you stop looking at him, you know," Hajime speaks up softly, when they're stopped at a light.

Tooru looks up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and a smile spreads across his lips before he looks down again. "I know that. I just can't stop looking anyway, you know? He's so tiny. So cute."

"Yeah," Hajime agrees warmly, as the lights change and he starts driving again. "He definitely is."

He's sure that they'd ended up spending something close to an hour at the local animal shelter, trying to pick the right dog to take home. They discussed their options beforehand, thought that they had a good idea of what they were looking for before they went in, but it was impossible to hold onto any of that when faced with all the dogs that needed homes.

Hajime found himself wishing, entirely unrealistically, that he could take all of them home. That he could make sure that they were all given good lives, that they were all happy. A glance at Tooru told him that he was thinking the same thing and they went through their decision making with a new purpose; whichever dog they chose would have to be given the best life they could possibly provide for it, to make up for the fact that they couldn't give the same to every other dog out there.

They'd also agreed, in the wordless way that they've come to communicate after so many years of knowing each other, that they would see how they felt in a few months' time, to see if they had enough space for another.

For now, though, the small puppy in the dog carrier is a good starting point. They both have time off work, so they can afford the time to spend with the pup, a mixed breed with black and white patches and beautiful brown eyes. He was shy when they first met him, but slowly warmed to them. The people working at the shelter said that he was a friendly dog, once he felt comfortable. His fur is long and soft, his ears floppy and paws a little too big for his growing frame. Hajime loves him already, and he knows that Tooru does too; that much is evident in the way Tooru can't look away.

Their apartment is on the bottom floor, with a tiny enclosed area at the back. Hajime is confident that it'll be enough for a small dog, and they've already taken care to make sure the apartment is clean, that everything is secure. They let the puppy out of his carrier, watching as he roams around, exploring the place, sniffing at every new smell he comes across.

Tooru wraps his arm around Hajime's waist, watching their new puppy with a fond smile. "It's like we're parents now."

Hajime snorts quietly, crouching down as the puppy wanders back towards them. He pats the soft fur, and doesn't even try to keep the grin off his face.

"I mean," Tooru adds, as he crouches down too. "It kind of felt like that when we were captain and vice-captain of a whole volleyball team, but this is kind of better. At least a puppy won't complain if you toss a ball too quickly."

"True," Hajime concedes. "You do have a point there."

"I hope you realise," Tooru declares, "that this is a competition, too. I'm going to be the best Dog Dad. He's going to love me the most."

Hajime doesn't even bat an eyelid. "Bring it, Oikawa."


	3. Support (Hinata/Yachi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3588017#cmt3588017): _Yachi and Hinata holding hands under the table at a post-match celebration meal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 603w

Hinata is in the centre of attention from the moment that the game ends.

No, Yachi thinks to herself. For even longer than that. His talent is no longer a surprise to the people in the audience; it's the reason that they're watching. Karasuno, as a team, has stopped surprising people with how strong they are and have started to make people acknowledge it, whether they're on the other side of the net, or in the seats around the stadium.

She's fiercely proud of all of them, but it's Hinata who draws the loudest cheers at the end of the game, when it's his spike that wins the match point.

As difficult as it is to watch from the seats instead of the side of the court, Yachi finds that she's glad for the distance, when she watches Hinata get swooped up by his teammates into crushing hugs, their hands tousling his hair affectionately until it's standing up, a sweat-slick mess as they all stand with their arms around each other, still panting for breath, looking absolutely elated. She's glad, a little selfishly, that her congratulations aren't lost in among everyone else's. She doesn't even know how to put words to the fact that Hinata continues to leave her completely amazed, so she's grateful for the extra time she has to figure it out. She'll speak to him later, to tell him just how awestruck she feels when she watches him on the court. Later.

The family restaurant that they go to for post-match celebrations have learned to recognise them, to save the long table for them on the days that they have matches, just in case. The entire team crowds around it now, and the loud excitement from earlier has died down into something quieter, still just as happy, but they're all tired now.

Hinata sits beside her with a warm smile, and Yachi realises that she still hasn't had the chance to speak to him properly. She's congratulated him, of course, just as she's congratulated the rest of the team, but she wants to do something more than that. She still doesn't know what, or how.

They're all silent as they eat, too hungry to focus on anything except for their meals, and the conversation begins to pick up again once they're full. It starts in short exchanges here and there, until they're all talking, about the match, about completely unrelated topics, but coming together, socialising as a team, and Yachi enjoys watching that, too.

She looks at Hinata, blinking in surprise when she finds that he's looking at her too. He smiles tiredly, bumping shoulders with her.

"Thanks, Yacchan."

"Huh?" Yachi frowns. "What did I do?"

"For your support," Hinata clarifies. He's propping his chin up with one hand, still watching her. "You're always there, for me. For all of us. I really appreciate it."

"I think you're amazing," she blurts out, feeling her face heat at how clumsy her words are.

Grinning, he takes her hand under the table. His hand is warm, covered in familiar callouses that Yachi runs her thumb over, no matter how many times they do this. Evidence of his hard work. Yet another reason to admire him so much.

"I think you're pretty amazing too," Hinata replies, and he isn't subtle about it; he doesn't lower his voice. Yachi thinks that she sees some of the other teammates glancing in their direction, but Hinata's grip on her hand is firm and unwavering, just like the rest of him.

Without even trying to hide her smile, she squeezes his hand just as firmly in reply.


	4. Fur (Hanamaki/Matsukawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3564465#cmt3564465): _Hanamaki finds out that Matsukawa is a werewolf_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 883w

It all starts when Issei starts showing up to school looking exhausted. He does his best to hide it, and perhaps most people don't realise that there's a different quality to the lazy slope of his shoulders, his drooping eyes, but Takahiro knows him better than most, and it's incredibly obvious to him, no matter how hard Issei might be trying to pretend that there's nothing out of the ordinary.

He doesn't ask about it, because he knows that if Issei is taking this much care to hide something, he's not going to talk about it when directly confronted. Instead, Takahiro quietly files his observations away, the same way he does when he's standing on the sidelines of a game. It's the kind of tiredness that doesn't go away after a morning; it's there in the way Issei runs his fingers through his hair, the slow roll of his shoulders as he walks, the way he rubs the back of his hand against the side of his face as he tries to stop himself from rubbing his eyes.

"You know," Takahiro says, on their way out of school that afternoon, once practice is over, "if you need to talk about anything, I'm here to listen, right? If you want to talk. Whatever."

Issei nods slowly with an amused look, as if he finds it amusing that Takahiro thinks there's anything to talk about. Takahiro _knows_ that it's meant to deter him from pushing any further, and he's a little frustrated by just how well it works.

Takahiro waits to see if it gets any better throughout the course of the week but if anything, it only seems to get worse. It's frustrating, but Issei clearly doesn't want to talk about it any more than he did before. Takahiro doesn't understand how no one else seems to pick up on it immediately, when it's so plain to him. Not even Tooru notices that there's anything amiss for another two days, and that in itself is a testament to just how carefully Issei is hiding this—whatever it is.

"You're looking a bit off," Tooru comments, as they sit together for lunch. He helps himself to one of Hajime's rice balls. "Are you getting sick?"

"I'm fine," Issei replies with a shrug. "Just stayed up late playing a game instead of doing my homework, so I had to wake up early this morning."

It's a lie, and Takahiro knows it is, but he can't prove it, doesn't have anything beyond the way Issei glances in his direction, trying to make it look casual but clearly wondering if his lie has held up. Takahiro looks right back at him, to make it clear that no, it hasn't. With a quiet sigh, Issei turns his head away, focusing his attention on his bento.

It's frustrating, not knowing something about Issei—especially something important, which he knows that this must be. It's even more frustrating to keep himself from pushing.

Issei is absent from school the following Monday, and Takahiro is sick with dread the entire day, in case it's something much more serious than he thought.

When he sees Issei in the club room the next morning, looking perfectly healthy, Takahiro kind of wants to punch him in the face.

He settles for punching Issei lightly in the shoulder instead, pausing in surprise because the muscle of his arm feels firmer than Takahiro remembers.

"You've gotten over—whatever it was, huh?"

With a quiet huff of amusement, Issei covers Takahiro's fist with his hand, fingers curling around his wrist loosely. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

"Are you going to tell me what it was?" Takahiro asks. "You're a shitty liar, you know."

"I'm a brilliant liar," Issei replies, and he hasn't let go of Takahiro's hand. Takahiro kind of doesn't want him to. "You're the only one who wasn't fooled. You know me too well."

"Either way," Takahiro says. "Are you going to tell me?"

"It's going to be weird," Issei warns him.

Takahiro raises an eyebrow. "Weirder than watching you steadily grow more exhausted over the course of a week?"

"Yeah. Weirder than that."

"Try me."

"I'm…" Issei clears his throat. "Uh. I'm a werewolf?"

Takahiro stares at him. "Bullshit."

"It's apparently a hereditary thing," Issei continues, and he looks so uncomfortable about explaining it that Takahiro thinks that it has to be true—Issei can tell jokes with a straight face to other people, but he's never managed it with Takahiro before. That probably hasn't suddenly changed over the course of a week. "Apparently, on our two hundredth full moon, we make our first transformation. Which, you know. Was the night before last."

"You're a werewolf," Takahiro says blankly.

"Yeah," Issei mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told you it would be weird. I'd prove it but, you know. You'll have to wait a month, and even then I'm not sure it's a great idea to actually show you when I'm still new to this whole thing. Running on four legs was—weird. I don't recommend it."

"Noted," Takahiro mumbles with a small nod. "A _werewolf_. What the hell. Does this make me a furry?"

"Hanamaki," Issei says seriously, looking him in the eye. "You were always a furry. But, you know. I like you anyway."


	5. Potential (Iwaizumi/Daichi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3617713#cmt3617713): _Iwazumi and Daichi meet each other at a sports store right after the Karasuno vs. Seijou Spring High match_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 597w

There's something comforting about the sports shop that Iwaizumi frequents. He remembers going there for the first time when he was a boy, when Oikawa's unwavering interest in volleyball also pulled him into the sport. The entire store feels like it's full of potential, like each ball on display, each weight, each and every single bit of equipment leads to a path slightly different to all the rest.

Right now, at the end of the path that he has been on for the past three years, Iwaizumi thinks that he could really do with a bit of _potential_.

He walks the familiar route from the front door of the shop to the volleyball section, his feet moving without thought now because it's been in the same back corner of the store no matter how many years have passed since he first started coming here. There's someone else standing in front of the display of knee pads and Iwaizumi slows down, making his footsteps quieter so he doesn't disturb them.

Then, as he person turns a little to examine a different pair, Iwaizumi stops completely, sucking in a sharp breath.

It's Sawamura Daichi, of Karasuno.

Perhaps his gasp is a little too loud, because Sawamura turns around, his eyes widening in recognition when he sees Iwaizumi.

"Oh, hello."

He's wearing an embarrassed smile, as if he feels a little guilty, for crossing paths with Iwaizumi, so soon after Aoba Jousai's loss. Iwaizumi knows how to compartmentalise, but even he can't deny that he still feels a small sting at their defeat.

"Uh," Iwaizumi says, desperate the break the awkward silence stretching between them. "So. Knee protectors, huh?"

Sawamura looks down at the pair he's holding in his hands and laughs quietly. "Yeah. I thought it might be time to replace mine. Can't risk any injuries, going forward from here."

"Speaking of." Iwaizumi gestures at the side of his own face. "You like you're healing up pretty well from that collision."

"Yeah," Sawamura smiles. It's a charming kind of smile, and Iwaizumi can see why Oikawa respects Sawamura the way he does. He's a good captain—a good guy, in general. It's plain to see. "How about you? Upgrading your equipment, too?"

"Uh, I…" Iwaizumi flounders. He doesn't even really know what he's doing here, beyond taking comfort from a familiar place. He doesn't even know how much volleyball he's going to play, now that he's retiring from the club, and he and Oikawa are planning on going to different universities.

"University volleyball looks really competitive," Sawamura comments, rubbing his chin absently. "I mean, not that I'm looking that far ahead when I've still got other games that I need to be paying attention to, but I'm curious to see what that's like, after graduation."

Iwaizumi blinks at him, his chest filling with anticipation. "Yeah. You're right."

"I'll probably end up going to a university somewhere in Miyagi," Sawamura says with a small shrug. "So… you know. Maybe I'll see you on the court again."

"Yeah," Iwaizumi murmurs, watching as Sawamura decides on a pair of knee protectors, putting the other pair back on the shelf. "Maybe you will. Hey. Good luck with the next game. Beat Shiratorizawa and get to the Nationals, okay?"

"We'll do our best. Thank you." Sawamura smiles at him again, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll see you around, I hope."

Iwaizumi watches him leave, blinking as he processes what just happened.

_University volleyball_ , he thinks to himself. Of course. He's not at the end of his path at all; he's only just getting started.


	6. Joke's On You (Hanamaki/Matsukawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3605681#cmt3605681): _Matsukawa seriously confesses his feelings for Hanamaki, but Hanamaki just plays it off as a joke_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 916w  
> warning: this doesn't have a happy ending

"It's difficult, being in love with your best friend," Oikawa murmurs, and he's not looking at Matsukawa, but at the sky that stretches above them, streaked with stratus clouds that break up the bright blue. "It eats at you from the inside, doesn't it?"

Matsukawa doesn't ask Oikawa how he knows, because there's no point. All he can do is hope that Oikawa is the _only_ one who knows. "Don't tell him."

This time, Oikawa looks at Matsukawa, holding his gaze. There's something sad and thoughtful in his eyes as he regards Matsukawa, and he shakes his head. "Of course not. It's not my place. If anyone is going to tell him, it needs to be you."

With a quiet sigh, Matsukawa lies back on the grass, looking up at the sky. "I don't know if I want to."

"You don't have to, either." Oikawa tousles Matsukawa's hair affectionately. "It's entirely up to you. I understand why you wouldn't want to. These sorts of secrets are terrifying, aren't they? They change everything."

"I think," Matsukawa says softly, "that things will change whether I tell him or not. I don't think I can act the same way around him any more. Or if I'm still convincing now, there's going to be a point somewhere down the track where I can't be. Unless I get over it somehow. Unless I manage to completely forget the way I feel right now."

Oikawa sighs sadly, and lies on his back as well. His foot rests against Matsukawa's, and it's just a small point of contact but it's grounding all the same. "That's not very likely to happen, unfortunately."

"What did you do?" Matsukawa genuinely wants to know, because he can never really tell what's happening between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They speak a language of their own, built on years and years of knowing each other, and Matsukawa has no hope of interpreting all of it, content enough with the bits and pieces that he _does_ understand.

"He knows me too well," Oikawa replies, and Matsukawa can hear the smile in his voice. "He worked it all out for himself, can you believe? He's more than just a pretty face after all."

Matsukawa snorts quietly. "And?"

"And he feels the same," Oikawa replies. "I'm lucky, I guess."

"I guess," Matsukawa echoes, wondering if that sort of luck can be shared between good friends.

—

Hanamaki isn't Iwaizumi; Matsukawa isn't Oikawa.

They know each other well, perhaps even better than anyone else does, but the sort of bond that their friends share isn't something that's easily replicated.

Hanamaki doesn't figure out how Matsukawa feels, and that's a relief as much as it's a disappointment. He welcomes Matsukawa's company, he's easy with contact, quick with a joke, or a grin, but he's oblivious about Matsukawa's feelings. It's not something that Matsukawa can explain, but he knows it all the same, and he supposes that's what matters.

For the most part, Matsukawa is happy to leave him in the dark about the whole thing. He doesn't need to know, and Matsukawa is still holding out in the hope that if he ignores the whole thing, it will eventually fade away into something a little more bearable.

Weeks turn into months, and if anything, Matsukawa's feelings grow even stronger. Every attempt he makes at stifling them only makes them burn fiercer, until he has no choice but to resign himself to the truth of the matter; he's in love with Hanamaki.

These days, he finds that he wants Hanamaki to know.

He waits until graduation, because it's near enough anyway. It gives him an easy escape, if things don't go well. It gives them an excuse to be alone if things _do_ go well. He has it all perfectly planned.

They're walking out of the school, tube boxes tucked under their arms, cherry blossom petals falling around them. Matsukawa wonders if it's too much of a cliche, but he's afraid that if he doesn't do it now, then he never will, and it's not something that he wants to regret.

"I like you," he murmurs, glancing at Hanamaki from the corner of his eye. "I have, for all of third year. Probably a bit of second year."

Hanamaki hums, tilting his head to the side and grinning at Matsukawa. "Wait, am I playing Iwaizumi or Oikawa? I can't tell. They'd both be the type to say something like that at graduation, wouldn't they?"

In the span of a breath, Matsukawa feels his heart break, and forces it back together. Without missing a beat, he says, "I'm taller. I'm Oikawa."

"Is this the bit where I start beating you up with my tube?" Hanamaki asks, brandishing his diploma like a weapon. "Trashykawa. _Shittykawa_."

Matsukawa forces out a laugh, holding his arm up to defend himself from Hanamaki's attack, fingers spread out to shield his face.

"They're dating, you know," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say. Because he needs to change the topic before Hanamaki notices the cracks in his smile. "They never said anything about it, but they're together."

"Those sneaky shits," Hanamaki mutters, lowering his arms. He looks over his shoulder, to where they left Oikawa and Iwaizumi behind. "Good for them, I guess. I'll give them hell for it later, but—it must be a relief, you know? To have that work out."

"Yeah," Matsukawa sighs, looking up at the cloudless sky. He forces his smile back into place. "Must be."


	7. Blood (Kuroo/Kenma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3548849#cmt3548849): _Kenma is a vampire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 648w  
> warning: blood

Kenma can hear Kuroo's heartbeat.

He lies awake in bed, his eyes open, staring up at his dark ceiling, and thinks about how the space between them means nothing. Kuroo is in his own bed, in his own house, separated from Kenma by at least two thick walls and it means _nothing_ , because in the dead of the night, his heartbeat sounds just as loud as it does when Kenma presses his ear to Kuroo's chest.

Licking his lips, Kenma sighs. His mouth feels dry. He's allowed to ask, when he needs blood. Kuroo has made that very clear.

Still, Kenma tries not to ask.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that it's dark, that he needs to sleep, but human circadian rhythms mean nothing to him any more. He's tired because he's hungry, but he's otherwise awake.

Kuroo's heartbeat continues on, a steady beat at the back of Kenma's mind, but it doesn't comfort him the way it usually does. If anything, it does the opposite.

Quiet as a whisper, Kenma slips out of his bed and opens his window.

Kuroo has been leaving his window unlocked ever since they were in middle school, and Kenma presses his palm to the glass, sliding it open so he can climb inside.

It's warm inside Kuroo's room. Kenma forgets that every time; forgets the way a human's body warmth can spread throughout an entire room, just because they're in it. He takes a step closer and clears his throat softly.

Kuroo, sleeping with his head pressed between two pillows as always, does not hear.

With a sigh, Kenma walks closer, and places his hand on Kuroo's back. If the room is warm, Kuroo's body is hot to the touch. It's a fascinating feeling, but Kenma isn't here for that at the moment.

"Kuroo," he says, tapping him on the back. "Wake up."

"Hm?" Kuroo lifts his head, rolling over onto his side. "S'that you, Kenma?"

"Yeah." Kenma doesn't apologise for waking him up, because he doesn't want to hear Kuroo tell him that he doesn't have anything to apologise for. He sits on the edge of the bed, keeping his hands to himself now, resting in his lap.

"Here," Kuroo murmurs, shuffling to the side and patting the space beside him on the bed. "I'll give you my wrist."

"That's dangerous," Kenma protests, even as he lies in Kuroo's bed. It's even warmer under the covers.

"I'll bleed faster, so you'll fill up faster," Kuroo points out. "You'll stop it when you're done. I trust you."

Kenma says nothing, but he wraps his fingers around the wrist that Kuroo offers, bringing it to his mouth.

He knows that his bite is painful. Kuroo sucks in a sharp breath, but Kenma doesn't apologise this time either, drinking the blood that gushes to the surface. He's careful not to waste a drop of it, drinking until his head feels clear again, until the fatigue that has been settling upon him for the past few days is gone.

With his lips pressed to Kuroo's wrist, Kenma whispers the spell he's learned to close wounds. He watches as the broken skin heals itself, and then presses another kiss to it, for good measure.

"Better?" Kuroo asks tiredly, using his free hand to stroke Kenma's hair.

"Better," Kenma agrees and, because Kuroo is just as funny with _thank you_ s as he is with apologies, doesn't say any more. He nuzzles against Kuroo though, and it doesn't matter that he's not tired, that he doesn't actually intend to sleep, because he knows that Kuroo needs to.

"G'night," Kuroo mumbles, closing his eyes again, and his heartbeat isn't the same thundering beat that captures all of Kenma's attention like before, but something softer, ever-present but comforting.

Pressed against Kuroo's side, Kenma shuts his eyes and remembers what it feels like to be warm.


	8. Cover (Kuroo/Daichi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3566001#cmt3566001): Kuroo and Daichi start fake dating in university and then get actual feelings for each other, but one of them doesn't realize they're Real Dating later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 865w

It starts off with a mistake. One of Kuroo's many discoveries at university is the fact that girls won't stop flirting with him when he goes to the local bar for drinks on Friday nights with the rest of the volleyball team.

It's flattering, sure, but it's incredibly stressful, and he doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Which is probably why, when one of the girls asks him for his number, he blurts out, "I'm gay."

It's a little too loud, and it draws more attention than he'd like. His teammates look up from their conversations, looking at him with raised eyebrows. He stares back at them, kicking himself for panicking, for not paying attention to his surroundings, for unintentionally coming out to his entire team.

He's still floundering when Sawamura, who was on his way back from the bar with a drink, clears his throat loudly.

"We're together," Sawamura says, and even though he's younger than most of their teammates, his tone brooks no nonsense. "Is there a problem with that?"

He gets a scattered chorus of no, and nods with satisfaction. He doesn't look at Kuroo on his way past, but pats his arm. It could be seen as a proprietary gesture, Kuroo thinks to himself, but he knows that it's one of support instead.

They don't talk about it until later that night, when they're at home. They share a small apartment and Kuroo waits until he's closed and locked the door behind them before he clears his throat.

"About before…"

Sawamura shrugs. "It's no big deal."

"I accidentally outed both of us," Kuroo says with a strained laugh. "That's kind of a big deal."

"You outed yourself," Sawamura corrects, and Kuroo wonders how he can sound so calm about this. "I'll take the responsibility for outing myself. That wasn't your fault."

"You covered for me," Kuroo murmurs. "I was going to―I don't even know what I was going to do. Panic, probably."

"I know." Sawamura rests his hand on Kuroo's back, and it's comforting. "I don't care if the team thinks we're dating. I just care that it doesn't affect the way we all treat each other. It'd be more difficult to isolate both of us for it, than just one of us. Besides, if I hadn't spoken up and they started treating you differently, I'm not sure if I could have said anything later. I think I would have been too―I don't know. Afraid, maybe."

"I get you," Kuroo sighs. "But, you know. You don't have to tie yourself down to me just to cover for me. We don't have to make the team keep thinking we're dating."

"We'll give it a while, so they can get used to the fact that we're both gay," Sawamura decides. "We can go from there."

"Yeah," Kuroo nods. "Okay."

―

They give it a month. They're not particularly affectionate with each other when they're with their teammates, because they don't need to go out of their way to be that convincing, but Kuroo notices the fact that Sawamura touches him more often. It's the small gestures; a pat on the shoulder, poking his side to get his attention, knocking their feet together when they're sitting beside each other.

Two months in, and as far as the team is concerned, they're still dating. They all seem comfortable enough about it now, and Kuroo thinks that perhaps they can call off the pretense now.

The only problem is, when he thinks about sitting Sawamura down and actually ending things, or pretending to end things, it makes him feel a little uneasy. It doesn't matter, he tells himself. He doesn't care if people think he's with Sawamura. He doesn't know if putting an end to this will also mean putting an end to Sawamura's casual touches, and he doesn't really want that. Sawamura's taken to massaging his shoulders as they go over their training plans together at the start of every week. Kuroo is a bit selfish; he wants to keep those for as long as he can.

And sure, maybe when they're both tired at the end of a long day, they'll lean into each other's arms and kiss lazily. Maybe Kuroo doesn't want that to stop either.

Four months in, and they're cuddling on the couch as they watch TV, even though there's no one else to see. Sawamura―Daichi, as Kuroo has taken to calling him now―has his head tucked under Kuroo's chin, lying on top of him as they half doze, half watch an old movie that Kuroo happened to find playing.

"Hey," Kuroo whispers, then clears his throat so he can speak a little louder. "Are we dating?"

Daichi lifts his head, blinking at Kuroo slowly.

"I'm going to headbuttt you," Daichi tells him. "What do you think we've been doing for the past few months?"

Kuroo blinks. "Oh."

"Oh, he says," Daichi mutters to himself, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Kissing me would be a good start," Kuroo says hopefully, raising an eyebrow.

Daichi laughs quietly, and when they have their arms wrapped around each other and are sharing the same breath, he's still laughing.


	9. Amaryllis (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3524273#cmt3524273): _Oikawa finds any excuse he can to buy flowers from Iwaizumi's flower shop_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 949w

> _**amaryllis** — the namesake of a character from the Eclogues, by Virgil; besotted with the gardener Alteo, who declared her love for him by piercing her heart with a golden arrow, every single day for the span of an entire month._

The flowers on display in the window are a pale pink today, shaped like small trumpets, with leaves and smaller, white flowers to break it up in the arrangement that sits in the very middle. Tooru marvels at it, at how well it's been put together. There's a carefully maintained shape to the entire bouquet, and it must have taken a while to make sure all the stems were of the correct length, that all the leaves sat perfectly. Tooru can't tear his eyes away, and so he doesn't, until he hears the familiar sound of someone clearing their throat.

"With a stare that intense," Iwaizumi tells him, leaning in the doorway of his shop, arms folded across his apron, "you're going to scare my customers away."

"We can't have that," Tooru comments, and he smiles instead but that doesn't seem to be much better, judging by the way Iwaizumi frowns and turns away.

"What are you after today?" Iwaizumi asks, as Tooru follows him inside.

Tooru can't even tease him for being presumptuous, when he's made an excuse to buy at least a small bouquet every day for the past two and a half weeks. He's quickly running out of people to buy flowers for; his mother's friends are all convinced that he's the sweetest young man, his friends have all been given the best flowers to give to their partners, and the last time he brought a bouquet into work with him, the receptionist flatly told him that he isn't going to seduce her so easily.

"Oikawa?" Iwaizumi prompts, when he doesn't get an answer. He looks over his shoulder. "Whose day are you going to _brighten with flowers_ this time?"

"That's a terrible impersonation of me," Tooru mutters, shaking his head.

"You haven't answered my question."

Tooru glances around the shop, searching for another way to deflect the question, but there's nothing. This is Iwaizumi's flower shop, after all. It's simple, straightforward, to the point. Just like its owner.

"I don't know," Tooru admits softly. "I've run out of people."

"Someone like you," Iwaizumi says, "doesn't run out of people to give flowers to. It doesn't happen. Anyone would be happy to receive flowers from you. They are, from the stories you come back with. The old lady who lives down the street from you? With the dog who won't let you walk past until you pat him?"

"She put the flowers in a vase by her windowsill," Tooru recalls with a smile. "I saw them there for days, whenever I walked past."

"And the young couple who moved into the apartment across from you," Iwaizumi adds. "They told you that you made them feel welcome, with that one small gesture."

"You remember the people I give the flowers to?" Tooru asks, his eyes going wide.

"You tell me about it, every single time you give my flowers to someone," Iwaizumi replies, shrugging, but he looks a little embarrassed. "No one else does that, you know. No one really buys flowers from me as often as you do."

"They should," Tooru murmurs. "Every single bouquet is so beautifully put together, with care, with eye for detail. I wish everyone appreciated them as much as I do."

"So you're here for the flowers after all," Iwaizumi says, leaning against the counter. He's watching Tooru with a smile, his head tilted to the side. "Sixteen days, and I was beginning to think that you were here for another reason."

"I…" Tooru blinks with surprise, feeling his cheeks growing warm. "I mean. Your flowers are—your bouquets—the colours—"

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi interrupts gently, and he's still leaning against the counter, his arms folded across his chest, but the space between them suddenly feels smaller. It's the look in his eyes, Tooru thinks. It's knowing. Like he has Tooru figured out. "You're beating around the bush."

"Did you just make a pun?" Tooru asks, smiling.

"I hear it, uh, diffuses tension?" Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck, and he's right back to looking embarrassed. Tooru can't help but be charmed by the way Iwaizumi is swinging between two extremes, like he can't quite decide what he wants to do.

Instead of making him have to choose, Tooru clears his throat, takes a step closer.

"I'm here for the flowers," he clarifies. "Because I like making people happy when I give them out. But more than that, I'm here for the cute florist."

"Watari," Iwaizumi says with a put-upon sigh. "I knew it."

Laughing, Tooru takes another step closer. "Don't tease."

"Tease?" Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "Me? When you're the one who came in every day, buying flowers for other people?"

"Do you want flowers?" Tooru asks with a smile. "What would you put in a bouquet for yourself?"

"Azaleas," Iwaizumi says, "according to _hanakotoba_ , stand for patience."

"Well," Tooru hums. "Have you been patient?"

"It's been nearly three whole weeks, Oikawa," Iwaizumi replies. "What do you think?"

"I think," Tooru hums, closing the distance between them with one final step, "you'll need a bit more than flowers, for that."

"Well," Iwaizumi murmurs, his breath warm against Tooru's lips. "I wouldn't complain about that at all."

Tooru kisses him then, soft and shy. Iwaizumi kisses back, harder, more passionate, an it's lucky that there aren't any other customers around, Tooru thinks as he gasps for breath, because after nearly three weeks, Iwaizumi's definitely deserved more than just the one kiss.


	10. Puppy (Oikawa/Ushijima)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3655857#cmt3655857): _Oikawa overhears Ushijima talking to a dog, and kissing its head_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 659w

It's not that Oikawa _means_ to end up walking through Enemy Territory, but it just happens to be the quickest way to get to the bakery that his mother likes. She works hard, and she doesn't ask him to go out on errands like this often, so he isn't about to say no.

Even if it means walking within a two kilometer radius of Shiratorizawa.

(He still has the old map, folded up and shoved between the pages of one of his textbooks from middle school, that he and Iwaizumi had laid out on the floor and calculated what a two kilometer radius around Shiratorizawa would actually be— _to scale_ —just so they could colour it in with red pencil and write ENEMY TERRITORY across it in black marker.

Honestly, Oikawa thinks to himself. What would Iwaizumi do if he knew that Oikawa was in that very same Enemy Territory right now? Disown him at worst. Make him take a shower scalding enough to sterilise any possible germs, at best.)

His mission is simple enough: go to the bakery, buy the cakes that his mother likes so much, get home. The quicker he gets it over with, the less time he'll have to spend here and honestly, that's simple enough. He's pretty sure that he can do it, without a problem.

Then again, Ushijima has never really followed any of the plans Oikawa has made for his life before. Of course he isn't about to start now.

Oikawa spots him before Ushijima spots him, mostly because Ushijima is facing the opposite direction. Oikawa recognises him by his broad shoulders though, and the team jacket. He has an _indecently_ nice back, Oikawa thinks petulantly. It's incredibly rude.

"How is your day going?" Ushijima asks, and for a terrifying moment, Oikawa thinks that he's being spoken to. Except then, he sees the puppy that Ushijima is crouching in front of. It's a tiny Shiba Inu, its curled tail wagging as Ushijima pats it. "Mine has been pretty good, thank you. It's nice and sunny. I imagine that you like that sort of thing."

Oikawa stands there and stares, his plan of getting to the bakery and then leaving as soon as possible completely forgotten because—

Because—

Ushijima is having an one-sided conversation with a puppy.

 _It's adorable_ , Oikawa thinks to himself, very quickly followed by, _WHAT_.

He wants to clear his throat, to make it clear that he's overheard, so that Ushijima will feel embarrassed, but he's not even sure that Ushijima would care, and that's just as frustrating as everything else.

He doesn't have the time to do it anyway, because then Ushijima bends down, pressing a kiss to the top of the puppy's head, and Oikawa needs to leave _immediately_ , before he's the one who ends up embarrassing himself by letting out the squeak that he's just barely managing to hold in.

The bakery isn't far, but he's going to have to walk past Ushijima for that, and he can't do that right now. He's probably never going to be able to look at Ushijima again without thinking about him _kissing puppies_. His face is burning because of the exertion, he tells himself angrily, as he walks three times as far as he needs to, just so he can avoid Ushijima. He's only smiling because he's thinking of how much his friends are going to laugh at Ushijima when he tells them about this tomorrow.

It's not charming at all. It's awkward and embarrassing and he hates it. Just like he hates the rest of Ushijima. He nods to himself, satisfied, and walks as fast as he can to the bakery, so he can leave just as quickly, as he'd planned.

He's still thinking about Ushijima and puppies by the time he gets home. It makes him want to scream into his pillow. And kind of makes him wish he was the puppy.

 _What_ , Oikawa thinks, and screams into his pillow.


	11. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4282801#cmt4282801): Remember when you caught hold of him, and thought _oh, how pretty is he, **but** , how quick to burn too_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 430w  
> myths/gods au

The very first time that they meet, Keiji looks like he's tired and Tooru finds the very concept in itself _hilarious_ ; as if the gods have any reason to feel so exhausted when they sit back and watch the comings and goings of the world. As if they understand flames or cycles or any of it at all, when they are so far removed from the world itself.

Keiji's eyes are depthless, like the night sky, like the bottom of a cold lake, and Tooru looks into them unblinkingly anyway, as if to say, _I'm not scared_. Keiji looks on, his expression unchanging, and his beauty makes Tooru feel like he's being pinned down, stuck on a wheel that is turning and turning, and it makes him want to laugh because isn't that apt?—but he doesn't put the thought into words, doesn't even need to, because he knows that Keiji has already thought it, already considered it, already finished with it before Tooru has even started.

There are black feathers that fall with every movement that Keiji makes, fluttering their way onto the ground behind him as he walks, and Tooru steps on each and every one of them as if they're stepping stones, as if they are markers of some path that Tooru cannot see, but Keiji is the god of the skies, and they are in his domain. Tooru, for all of his grandeur, for the love that he garners no matter where he turns, still knows to concede when concessions are due. His wings are not feather but flame, but it's still Keiji that he defers to, it's still Keiji that he must respect.

"You aren't very good at playing the part of a tamed bird," Keiji murmurs, his words almost carried away by the wind. "But then again, I suppose that it's not what you are."

Tooru is ash and rebirth; he is all-consuming fire, burning and burning and then burning out, only to rekindle. He is wildfire, and Keiji knows better than to expect him to be anything else. Their moments together like this are few and far in-between, when time ticks to a different rhythm for them both.

Still, Keiji opens his arms and Tooru steps into them, taking comfort in their unchanging familiarity. He shuts his eyes at the feeling of Keiji's fingers in his hair, and Tooru might have enough fire to burn them both up, but he lets it simmer for now, lets himself stop thinking about time, about cycles, about rebirths, and allows himself to be held.


	12. I Choose You (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3836593#cmt3836593): _Oikawa becomes a Pokémon trainer and chooses Iwaizumi as his starter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 455w

"I don't want to make you nervous about this, Tooru," the professor tells him with a kind smile, hands in the pockets of her labcoat, where Tooru knows from experience that she keeps a stash of lollipops for people that she's particularly happy with. "It's just that this is an important decision to make, and you don't have to make it today, okay? You're going to meet so many Pokémon out there in the world as you go on your adventure, but there's something special about the first one."

Tooru nods, because he's heard this speech before. The professor is Hajime's older sister, after all. He's played in this laboratory all his life, has listened to her start young trainers on their Pokémon journeys for as long as she's been the professor, and has listened to Hajime's grandmother make the speech before that.

One of the most special things about someone's starter Pokémon is the fact that it's willingly chosen, instead of being caught by chance, by hoping that the pokéball thrown will stop shaking, that a wild Pokémon will accept its new life. A starter Pokémon is meant to be a steady, unwavering companion. The one Pokémon that will never leave Tooru's side, no matter how much they change. The Pokémon that will grow _with_ him, and never away from him.

"I choose…" Tooru begins, and then smiles the cheeky smile that he has learned saves him from trouble just as often as it gets him into trouble. "I choose Iwa-chan."

"Dumbass," Hajime mutters from beside him, thumping him in the back. "You can't pick a person to be your starter Pokémon. _Dumbass_."

"Hajime," the professor says, barely holding back her laughter, and slips Tooru a lollipop when Hajime turns away to sulk.

"I mean it," Tooru says seriously. "Sort of. I'm excited to explore the world with my new Pokémon, but it's not going to be half as fun without you there too, y'know. I know that when I become a proper Pokémon trainer, my team will all be my partners and we're going to work together to be the strongest, but you're my most important partner. I want you to be there, too."

" _Bakakawa_ ," Hajime sputters, the way he does when he's getting flustered. His face is flushed bright red, he's scowling, and he has his arms folded across his chest. "My whole family is made of Pokémon professors, and I waited until today so we could pick our starters together, so we could begin our journeys together. Of course I'm always going to be there."

"Great," Tooru beams. "Iwa-chan, I choose you."

Hajime thumps him again, but this time, keeps his arm around Tooru. "Yeah, well, I choose you right back."


	13. Like Drowning (Hanamaki/Matsukawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3855537#cmt3855537): _Remember when I was finally okay with the thought that we'd never see each other again, but here you are again after all these years?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 735w  
> warning: drowning imagery

Sometimes, Issei finds himself dreaming about high school.

It's nonsensical, even by dream logic standards. He finds himself standing in the hallways of Aoba Jousai, empty and abandoned, the entire place flooded with water that reaches up to his knees.

He wades around the corridors, each splash echoing against the walls, the water lit by some mysterious light source that makes the entire place looks like it's glowing a soft blue. He walks past the homeroom he used in third year, seeing no one else inside. He walks past his friends' homerooms, each of them equally familiar. He walks past the assembly hall and the shoe lockers by the entrance, and goes into the gymnasium, where they used to practice. It's flooded too, but he finds that at least here, he's not alone.

Takahiro stands in the middle, back turned to him, not turning around even as Issei approaches. His hair looks lilac in the blue glow that reaches even here, and Issei reaches out to touch Takahiro's shoulder, but he slips and falls, the water closing around his face, filling his mouth and lungs. 

He tries to sit up, and Takahiro holds him down, so that he can't. 

In his dream, Issei doesn't fight back. He opens his eyes, watching Takahiro, distorted by the water, by the air bubbles that escape his mouth, and watches until he wakes, gasping for air, his heart pounding, his chest aching for a boy that he loved more than he even knew he was capable of loving.

 _Does it really count, when you were still just a kid back then?_ Tooru's voice echoes through his memory from a week-old conversation, because Oikawa Tooru is not the kind of person who lets his friends drift out of contact, the way that Hanamaki Takahiro is. _You didn't know even half of what you thought you did back then, does anything still count?_

Issei lets the obvious self-doubt in his friend's voice slide this time, and he thinks to himself, _Yes, it still does_.

It still counts, because Issei might not have known anything back then, but he stills felt more for Takahiro than he did for anyone or anything else; the kind of love that feels like staring directly into the sun, that feels like drowning. It's not something Issei could keep up, without suffering for it. 

He took graduation like the easy escape that it presented itself as, going to a university far enough away that it made regular contact difficult. Kyoto is far from Tokyo, and further still from Miyagi. It fills Issei with a false sense of security and slowly, over time, he's learned to stop looking up at every glimpse of champagne pink hair, his heart catching in his throat with so much hope that he can barely even breathe through it. He doesn't have the right, when he's the one who left.

He's learned to stop feeling like being without Takahiro is like being without a part of himself. He's learned to carry on. He's learned not to start every day thinking of Takahiro, and end it in the same way. 

He's learned to be apart from Takahiro, after all this time, and that's why, when he sees a head of champagne pink hair in his periphery, he doesn't even look up. Not until he realises that whoever it is, they're making a beeline straight for him, in the crowded street—that Takahiro, red-faced, hands balled into fists, is in Kyoto, walking directly towards him.

"What—" Issei begins, and it's like he can feel the water rushing around his head again, in his ears, his nostrils, dulling his senses. 

Takahiro grabs a fistful of his shirt and—stands there. Glares. Issei, on a hot, dry day, standing in the middle of the street, feels like he's being held underwater again. 

Takahiro is here. Takahiro found him and it doesn't make sense, until—

"Tooru," Issei realises, letting out a shaky breath, drawing another, reminding himself that he _can_ breathe.

"Tooru," Takahiro confirms, and he tightens his grip on Issei's shirt. It's been years, and he's built muscle. He's changed, and Issei hasn't been there to see any of it, but it's still Takahiro. 

It's still Takahiro.

"You're an asshole," he tells Issei, his voice cracking. 

Issei laughs brokenly and feels like maybe this time, Takahiro is pulling him out of the water for a change. "Yeah, I am."


	14. Nail Polish (Kyoutani/Yahaba)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3735729#cmt3735729) _Remember when Yahaba painted Kyoutani's nails?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 947w

It's late in the afternoon and Yahaba is stretched out on his back, lying on the floor in Kyoutani's room. He shuts his eyes, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand. Kyoutani's fingers are warm as they circle his ankle, tugging gently, and Yahaba doesn't even protest. He allows his foot to be pulled into Kyoutani's lap, only blinking his eyes open when it's been there for a while.

"What are you doing?"

"You have painted toenails," Kyoutani murmurs, tapping a finger against Yahaba's little toe as if to make his point. "It's cute."

"Mm," Yahaba shuts his eyes again with a smile. "My sister gets me to paint her nails for her. Sometimes I'm curious about how the colours would look on me.

"I like this purple," Kyoutani tells him, tapping his finger against Yahaba's middle toe this time.

"You would," Yahaba laughs quietly. "It's the same colour as the t-shirt you wear to practice. I still remember the look on your face when I wore it last week, when we got caught in the rain on the way here and I needed a change of clothes."

"I liked seeing you in my clothes," Kyoutani mumbles, sounding both pleased and embarrassed. "Is that why you picked this purple?"

"More or less," Yahaba replies. "I painted my toes and thought of the cute way you scrunch your nose up when you frown. Like you're doing right now, probably."

"Shut up," Kyoutani mutters, pushing Yahaba's foot off his lap and lying down on the floor beside him. He turns on his side, pressing a kiss to Yahaba's shoulder. "I hate you."

"Mhmm," Yahaba hums, stroking his fingers through Kyoutani's hair. "I'm sure you do."

"We're meant to be studying," Kyoutani says, kissing Yahaba's lips this time. "I thought you were meant to be a good influence, being captain and all, now."

"I'm already on top of my schoolwork," Yahaba points out. He grabs the front of Kyoutani's shirt, pulling him into another kiss. "We're allowed to take breaks, you know."

Kyoutani grins, kissing along Yahaba's jaw. "I know that."

Later that afternoon, when Yahaba is packing his things to leave, Kyoutani catches him by the hand.

"Hey. Paint my nails for me sometime? Not my toes, but on my fingers."

Yahaba smiles. "How about Seijou green? Maybe if the captain and ace both show up with mint green nailpolish, we can convince the rest of the team to do it for team spirit."

"You're such an ass," Kyoutani mutters, but he sounds proud of it. He kisses the tip of Yahaba's nose. "Maybe just black."

"I'll bring some with me tomorrow," Yahaba tells him, kissing Kyoutani's lips before slinging his bag over his shoulder. He says goodbye to Kyoutani's mother on his way out, bowing as he passes, and leaves with one last smile over his shoulder.

 

The next afternoon, Yahaba pulls a bottle of black nail polish out of his bag and steers Kyoutani to the table in the lounge room.

"There's more room here," he says, "and I'm going to put some paper down, just in case."

"That's reassuring," Kyoutani says, sitting down. "I thought you were meant to be good at this."

"Doesn't mean I want to take any chances and accidentally spill black nail polish on my boyfriend's coffee table," Yahaba mutters, and Kyoutani sits up a little straighter.

"Hey, say that again."

"My boyfriend," Yahaba says slowly, "better stop being so damn surprised when I call him that, when it's been _months_. Anyway, lay your hand flat on the table, like this."

Kyoutani does as he's told. He watches as Yahaba works, nose scrunching up at the first few brushstrokes, but then clearly getting used to it. Yahaba uses his other hand to hold Kyoutani's hand still, and looks up when he's done with one hand, to find that Kyoutani's face is completely red.

"You keep touching my hand," Kyoutani mumbles. "I like it."

"What the hell," Yahaba whispers, leaning across the table and kissing Kyoutani. "Why are you this cute?"

"Shut up," Kyoutani grumbles, kissing back. "Anyway, you got some nail polish on my skin as well."

"It'll wash off later," Yahaba replies. "Now don't touch anything. Just leave your nails to dry while I do your other hand too."

"How long does it take to dry?" Kyoutani asks. "How long do I have to sit still for?"

"Just a few minutes," Yahaba tells him. "Hang in there. Even you can do it, I'm sure."

"I never said I couldn't."

Yahaba pats Kyoutani's hand gently, just to watch the way his cheeks burn red. "I know you, though."

"I hate you so much," Kyoutani grumbles, but he stays still all the same. "This looks cool. I'm going to fight anyone who thinks otherwise."

"I'm sure that everyone knows that," Yahaba replies. "Besides, everyone knew better than to comment on your hair when you bleached it the first time. I don't think anyone's going to try and make an issue about this, either."

"Good," Kyoutani nods. "How long is this going to last for, anyway? Will you show me how to fix it up?"

"Of course," Yahaba says with a fond smile. "It'll be easy, so you don't have to worry. Now, you'll have to stay still for a while longer just to make sure it's all properly dry before we start cleaning it up, okay?"

"What am I going to do, if I can't use my hands at all?" Kyoutani complains.

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Yahaba gets up and walks around the table, sitting down beside Kyoutani and nuzzling against him.

"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll work something out."


	15. Finally (Daichi/Suga)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4446385#cmt4446385): _Remember when Daichi finally asked Suga out and everyone, including Ukai, pretty much went 'Finally!!'?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 753w

Daichi has this whole thing planned out.

He's actively been thinking about it for weeks, but he knows that it's been there, at the back of his mind, for _years_. Ever since they were fifteen years old and getting to know each other properly for the first time, he's always known how he felt about Koushi. It's not new to him and the thing is, he knows that it's not new to Koushi either.

They've both known, like it's been an open secret between them that they've mutually decided not to do anything about, because they've never known _what_ to do.

That's changed now, though. This close to the end of their third year, Daichi doesn't want to leave with any regrets. They're already doing much better than he ever anticipated that they would do in volleyball, but he knows that there's more to worry about than just that. He knows that he needs to do something about his feelings about Koushi before he lets the opportunity pass him by entirely. He needs to seize his chance, in case it never comes by again.

He saves it until after practice. He already knows what Koushi's answer is going to be; he's known all this time. It's always just been a matter of being prepared for what it would mean, for both of them, for their future. He doesn't need to worry about how it's going to affect their performance in the matches that they still have left at Nationals. They'll face their future together, whatever it means for them.

"Daichi?" Koushi asks, when they're the only ones left in the gymnasium, after packing everything away. Daichi has already gotten the others to leave early, so that it's just the two of them. "Is everything okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Daichi turns around. He's standing at the door of the gymnasium, his hands balled into fists, hidden in his pockets. "Do you mind if we talk?"

"Of course," Koushi smiles. "What's up?"

Gathering his courage, Daichi looks him in the eye. "Go out with with me."

Koushi blinks at him. "Daichi?"

"I don't want to keep on pretending that we don't know," Daichi says. "I like you. I want to be with you."

With a small smile, Koushi tilts his head to the side. "You finally asked."

"Finally?" Daichi repeats, but he's grinning. "You could have asked me."

"I could have," Koushi agrees, walking closer, resting his hand on Daichi's shoulder. "But you needed the time, to be sure."

"And you've been sure this whole time?" Daichi asks, and it's the easiest thing to wrap his arm around Kouchi's waist, drawing him even closer. "I kept you waiting, huh?"

"Absolutely," Koushi replies, and Daichi has never seen him wearing this particular smile before. "It's been worth it, though."

"I'm glad," Daichi murmurs, and Koushi leans forward, pressing their lips together just briefly. Daichi's eyes go wide, and Koushi winks at him.

Slipping his hand into Daichi's, Koushi turns the lights off and leads the way outside, so that they can lock the door behind them. They're about to walk home, when Koushi suddenly pauses. Daichi steadies himself with a hand on Koushi's shoulder, looking up to find that the rest of the team is standing right there, waiting for them.

"Um," Daichi says, but he doesn't even think to let go of Koushi's hand.

"Finally," Tanaka is the first to speak up. "You _finally_ did it, huh? Congratulations."

"What?" Daichi asks. "What are you talking about?"

"You asked us all to leave early," Ennoshita speaks up, and Koushi chuckles quietly at Daichi's side. "It was obvious enough what you were going to do. We're just saying, we're glad that it's finally happened."

"Me too," Koushi agrees, squeezing Daichi's hand in his.

"Was everyone waiting for this?" Daichi asks with a sigh.

"I mean…" Hinata speaks up. "It was obvious, right?"

"I…" Daichi rubs the back of his neck with a quiet laugh. "I guess so."

—

The next morning, Daichi and Koushi walk into the gymnasium holding hands. There's no reason to hide, after all, when the entire team knows already.

Except Ukai and Takeda are standing there, heads bowed over a clipboard, and Daichi falters in his step.

"Oh, Sawamura. Sugawara." Ukai looks up, pausing when he sees them holding hands.

Koushi squeezes Daichi's hand tightly, instead of letting go.

Ukai smiles at them. "Well. About time, right?"

"Yeah," Daichi replies, squeezing Koushi's hand in return. "That's what we thought, too."


	16. Assumptions (Kindaichi/Kunimi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4539057#cmt4539057): _Remember when Kindaichi didn't use hair gel for a week?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 1062w

Kindaichi probably isn't meant to overhear it in the first place and he knows that, but the moment he hears the start of the conversation, there's no way that he can stop listening.

It's the end of the day, and they're packing up the gym after practice. Yahaba and Kindaichi are mopping the floors, and he happens to be passing the storeroom when he overhears Watari talking to Kunimi. He's talking about his latest crush, a girl with long hair that reaches down to her waist.

"Can you believe that she doesn't use any product in it at all?" he's asking Kunimi. "It's just naturally shiny like that. She's amazing. I want to run my fingers through it."

Kunimi hums in thought. "Dating someone with product in their hair would be a pain, I guess. It would get everywhere."

Kindaichi keeps walking, before he's caught eavesdropping, and before Yahaba notices that he's stalling. He frowns to himself as he does the rest of the mopping though, lost in thought. Yahaba notices, patting him on the shoulder and asking if he feels okay, but Kindaichi shrugs it off easily, claiming that he's just tired.

Kunimi doesn't seem to have realised that Kindaichi has overheard anything either. He's just his normal self as they change, and he hangs back, waiting for Kindaichi so that they can walk home together. Just like they always do.

"We could do our homework together," Kunimi says as they approach his street. "No one's going to be home for a while."

"Oh," Kindaichi nods. "Sure."

Doing their homework together, when Kunimi's mother is out and the rest of his family won't be home for another couple of hours, generally means that they'll spend the first fifteen minutes genuinely trying to get their work done, and the rest of their time kissing.

The team doesn't know that they're dating. Not even the third years have caught on, and they figure everything out. Kindaichi knows that it's thanks to Kunimi, who is so quiet and subtle that it's difficult to get anything out of him unless he wants you to know. It's exactly how Kindaichi found out about Kunimi's feelings in the first place, and it's something that he's gotten used to, because they've known each other for years. He can read Kunimi well enough, just the same as Kunimi knows him. Right now, he can tell that Kunimi is definitely still interested in him, but Kindaichi's mind keeps wandering back to the comment he overheard earlier.

Kunimi never touches his hair. When they're kissing. he'll have his fingers curled against the nape of Kindaichi's neck, but that's it. Maybe he _does_ secretly hate Kindaichi's hair.

Later, when Kindaichi is walking home, it's all he can think about.

The next day, he shows up to school wth his hair down. It falls into his face and he hates it, constantly having to push it out of his eyes. Kunimi stares in surprise, and Kindaichi averts his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"I ran out of hair gel," he lies, before Kunimi can even ask.

"Huh." Kunimi keeps walking, and Kindaichi falls into step with him. "Even the stash you have in your room, from when your mother tried throwing them all out to stop you gelling your hair up?"

"Yeah," Kindaichi shrugs. "Totally ran out. I can't believe it."

Kunimi's expression says that he can't either, but he doesn't press. They keep walking, and Kindaichi's hair earns him odd looks from his teammates but nobody else really comments on it until Oikawa, who takes one look at him and screeches.

"You look like Tobio-chan!" He points at Kindaichi, until Iwaizumi slaps his arm back down. "I'm not going to lose to you!"

"Stop it," Iwaizumi groans, grabbing Oikawa by the collar and dragging him away.

"He's right, though," Yahaba says, tilting his head to the side. "You do look like the setter from Karasuno."

Kindaichi suddenly hates his hair even more. But if Kunimi hates his hair when it's down, well, Kindaichi isn't really sure about what to do.

He's incredibly tempted to gel his hair up the next day, because he could very easily say that he'd bought more hair gel on his way home or something, but he frowns at himself in the mirror and resists the urge. By the end of _that_ day, he hates his hair even more.

He knows that Kunimi is getting suspicious about it, but he doesn't really bring it up, and Kindaichi gets through most of the week without giving up and gelling his hair again.

On Friday, he's at Kunimi's place again, and they're shut in his room, kissing. Kunimi has his fingers resting on the nape of Kindaichi's neck, scratching lightly over the sensitive skin there. It feels nice, but Kindaichi reaches for Kunimi's wrist, guiding his hand further up, into his hair.

Kunimi pulls back with surprise, blinking his eyes open.

"Your hair is soft," he murmurs, stroking his fingers through Kindaichi's hair.

"Do you like it?" Kindaichi asks, bowing his head a little so Kunimi can touch it more. "You don't have to worry about getting gel on your fingers or anything."

Kunimi frowns, pulling his hands away. "Is that what this is about?"

"What?" Kindaichi asks.

Kunimi looks away, pressing his lips together into a thin line. "You overheard, didn't you? When I was talking to Watari the other day."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Kindaichi stammers.

"You're an idiot," Kunimi tells him, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Just say something next time, okay?"

"So it's true, then," Kindaichi says, "you do hate my hair."

"No I don't," Kunimi sighs. "It's fine. But if Watari thinks I'm not into people who put product in their hair…"

"…Oh," Kindaichi realises. "Right."

"Your hair's fine the way it always is," Kunimi tells him, taking hold of the longest strands falling down across Kindaichi's forehead and holding them up. "Maybe I don't touch it much so I don't mess it up, but it's fine."

"Really?" Kindaichi asks, sighing with relief.

"Yeah. Go back to putting gel in it. That's what you like, right?" Kunimi strokes his fingers through Kindaichi's hair again. "You look weird like this. It's not bad, but it's not you. I prefer you when you're being yourself."

Resting their foreheads together, Kindaichi sighs happily. "I'm glad."


	17. First Kiss (Kyoutani/Yahaba)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3936177#cmt3936177): _Remember when Kyoutani kissed Yahaba for the first time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 621w

Yahaba has never seen Kyoutani look _this_ nervous in the entire three years that they've known each other. 

It's cute, he thinks to himself. They're kneeling on the floor of Yahaba's room, their homework pushed to the side, long since forgotten because ever since Kyoutani cleared his throat and said, _I want to kiss you_ , their entire world has narrowed down to this, to them, facing each other, close enough to touch but just waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Kyoutani is blushing. They're close enough that Yahaba can see the way it spreads across his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, and down his neck. He wasn't even this nervous when they first told each other that they liked each other, and Yahaba finds the entire thing charming. 

He knows that it's going to be Kyoutani's first kiss. Yahaba has been kissed twice before—both to the same girl just a few months into high school; the first had left her blushing while he felt nothing, and he'd only kissed her again to confirm that he still felt nothing. It means that he has more experience that Kyoutani, though, and maybe that's why they're both stalling here. Maybe that's why Kyoutani is so nervous.

"So," Yahaba whispers, raising an eyebrow, his lips pulling into a smile. "Are you going to kiss me, or are we just having a really intense staring competition?"

"Shut up," Kyoutani mutters and to Yahaba's utter delight, he blushes harder. "I'm getting there, okay?"

"Take your time," Yahaba tells him, still smiling. "This isn't weird at all."

"Yahaba—" Kyoutani growls out, pulling back a little, but he's grinning too. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"You still want to kiss me, though," Yahaba points out, reaching over to take Kyoutani's hand into his. They've held hands before, in the privacy of their rooms. They've gotten used to it enough that it's comforting, instead of feeling new and weird, and he can feel Kyoutani relaxing just a little as their fingers intertwine.

"You know…" Kyoutani says, looking down at their hands before looking up again. "Apparently, when people are nervous, their hands go cold."

Both their hands are cold. 

"It's the air conditioning," Yahaba lies without missing a beat, but Kyoutani's soft laugh says that he sees right through it.

"You're just as nervous as I am," Kyoutani realises. "You're just pretending that you're not. I thought that just because this wasn't your first kiss, you wouldn't be, but…"

With a strained laugh, Yahaba shuts his eyes. "This is the first time I've really, really wanted to kiss someone, and they want to kiss me too."

"Well, then…" Kyoutani murmurs, and he cups Yahaba's cheek gently. Yahaba opens his eyes, finding Kyoutani smiling at him, leaning in a little. When he speaks, his breath is warm against Yahaba's lips. "We're on the same page, then, aren't we? It's a good thing. We both want to kiss each other. We can do this."

"I can't believe you're giving us a pep talk," Yahaba sighs, and he cups Kyoutani's cheek in return, drawing him closer. "But yeah. We can do this." 

Kyoutani's lips are warm against his. They're firm, and he doesn't pull away immediately. Yahaba doesn't want him to, his hand coming around to hold the back of Kyoutani's head, fingers scratching lightly through his short hair. Kyoutani hums softly, pulling back, wetting his lips, then leaning in again. 

It feels so different to what Yahaba remembers of his previous kisses. He never wants this to end. 

Judging by the way that Kyoutani very carefully puts a hand on his side to pull him closer, he's not the only one.


	18. Coward To The End (Kyoutani/Yahaba)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt:](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3870897#cmt3870897) you're too proud to admit that you made a mistake; you're a coward, to the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 587; angst

"I'm leaving," Kentarou says on a cold afternoon.

He stands there in their lounge room, arms folded across his chest, and he's not even sure if he wants Shigeru to fight with him about it. He isn't sure how many more fights he has left in him.

Shigeru, sitting at their dining table, doesn't even look up from the mug of tea he has cupped between his hands. "Of course you are. That's what you do, isn't it? You run."

Kentarou squares his shoulders. "I'm not coming back."

This time, Shigeru looks up. It's a slow, measured movement that makes Kentarou feel like he's being pinned to the spot. "Good. Don't."

It's funny, Kentarou thinks, carrying his things down the street in a suitcase, that relationships are such fragile things. They take so long to build, piece by careful piece, and it's so easily broken.

 

The cold wind cuts through him and he doesn't have the free arms to pull his coat around him any tighter. He doesn't really know where he's going to, because he might be the kind of person to run from situations he doesn't want to deal with, but that doesn't mean that he's the kind of person to plan what he's actually going to do after that. 

He crashes on his older brother's couch for two days, taciturn and grateful that unlike his sister, at least _he_ doesn't talk about how it's such a shame, about how much he liked Shigeru and thought that he was good for Kentarou.

Leaving his phone on silent, Kentarou spends the next two days finding somewhere else to live. He checks his phone once every few hours, heart leaping into his throat when he sees missed calls and messages, only to sink again when he realises that none of them are from Shigeru.

A month later, Watari contacts Kentarou. There's been radio silence from Shigeru and they haven't even seen each other during that time. 

"I've got a box of things I'm meant to drop off at your place," Watari says, and he sounds awkward and apologetic, even over the phone.

"I'll text him my address," Kentarou replies. "He can drop it off himself." 

He doesn't actually expect Shigeru to show up, but he's there the next day. Then again, Kentarou thinks to himself, between the two of them, it's not Shigeru who is the coward.

"Here," he says at the door, holding the box out. "The stuff you left behind. Seeing as you're not coming back for it."

There hasn't been a single day that has passed without Kentarou missing Shigeru, but he's never felt it as keenly as he does now, separated by nothing more than his doorway and a cardboard box full of things he didn't care about enough to pack the first time. 

"Do you want to come in?" Kentarou asks, stepping aside.

Shigeru sighs quietly, and the frown on his face is a familiar one. "No, I don't. I just came here to drop this off. Bye, Kyoutani."

"Wait," Kentarou calls out, when Shigeru is already halfway down the hall.

It makes Shigeru stop, turning halfway back to face Kentarou, before he stops. He waits, and Kentarou feels the apology rising in his throat so quickly that he almost chokes around it. 

"Um," he says, his courage disappearing even quicker than it came. "Thanks."

He sees the way Shigeru's shoulders droop slightly, and hates himself for it. Shigeru turns away again, and keeps walking. Kentarou just stands there, watching him go.


	19. Eloping (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=3753393#cmt3753393): _Remember when Iwaizumi and Oikawa decided to elope?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 796w

Oikawa Tooru, at the very height of his abilities, playing as the official setter for the Japan national men's volleyball team, is a sight to behold. He's an inspiration to anyone, no matter their skill level, because he's the perfect example of hard work and dedication.

Tooru on holiday, without a volleyball court to practice on, or anything but the hotel gym to release his energy, is difficult in an entirely different way to how he was back when they were teenagers.

Hajime doesn't quite know what to do with this quiet, listless version of Tooru, who stretches out across the bed, the backs of his hands pressed to his eyes, lips parted so he can take deep breaths, in and out. After a moment, Hajime grows restless of watching Tooru and crosses their hotel room, climbing onto the bed as well. He kneels over Tooru, propping himself up on all fours, and takes a deep breath, not entirely sure of what to say, to break the strange mood that's fallen over them.

Tooru blinks his eyes open, his long eyelashes casting longer shadows across his cheek from the light just above their bed. He smiles at Hajime, reaching up and trailing his fingertips feather-light across Hajime's cheek. It's almost ticklish. Hajime turns his face, kissing the middle of Tooru's palm, holding it in place with his own hand covering it.

"I don't want to go out," Tooru murmurs into the space between them. "After making all the effort of flying to an island resort. I don't want to leave the room. I don't want to share you with anyone. I'm being selfish."

"I don't mind," Hajime replies, pulling back far enough from Tooru's hand that his words aren't muffled. "We're here to spend time with each other. It doesn't matter to me if we do that in here, or if we go exploring. I just want this time, with you."

"You get me," Tooru says on an exhale, shutting his eyes again, tipping his head back against the pillow. "You always get me, don't you?"

"It's why you keep me around," Hajime jokes lightly, leaning in to press a kiss to Tooru's neck.

"Don't," Tooru says, a little too sharply, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Hajime's head, keeping him where he is. "That's not—I love you."

"I know that," Hajime replies. He kisses Tooru's neck again. "I'm kidding."

Tooru's fingers curl in Hajime's hair. Hajime can tell, without even looking, without asking, that Tooru is trying to find a way to put his feelings into words. He's good at covering up with light-hearted remarks. He's just as good at being serious when he needs to, but Hajime knows that there are moments like these, moments where it's about _them_ and the words get stuck in Tooru's throat.

Not that Hajime can talk.

In the end, Tooru's feelings come out as an exceedingly casual, "We should get married."

Hajime pauses a beat, just to see if Tooru is going to follow it up with anything else. When there's nothing, he just takes a breath and says, "Okay."

"I mean…" Tooru clears his throat. "We should get married, here. As in—not right here, in bed, but while we're on holiday."

"That's incredibly low-key for you," Hajme murmurs. "What's up?"

Tooru exhales loudly. "I'm done sharing you with everyone who just sees you as an extension of me. I don't want you to be _Oikawa Tooru's rumoured boyfriend_ or _Oikawa Tooru's fiancé_. I just want… Iwa-chan. Hajime. I want a quiet thing, that doesn't belong to anyone except for us."

Lifting himself up on his arms, Hajime kisses Tooru's lips. "Hanamaki and Matsukawa are going to be pissed that they didn't get to be part of it."

"We can have a small party later," Tooru decides. "Just the four of us. Or maybe our families too. A reception. Ten people, max."

"You're really not keen on sharing, are you?" Hajime asks, chuckling softly as he kisses Tooru again. "Okay. Sure. Let's do it."

"Tomorrow," Tooru says, already sounding happier. "I don't have a ring for you, even though I just asked you to marry me. This is a mess—"

"It's fine," Hajime assures him. "We'll find rings tomorrow. For both of us."

"I'll wear mine on a chain, under my uniform jersey," Tooru murmurs, and Hajime isn't even surprised that he's already thought it out. "But otherwise, I want it on my finger. So people know. They're not welcome to the details, but I want them to know I'm yours."

"Of course you do," Hajime chuckles fondly, lying down beside Tooru. He rests their heads together and shuts his eyes, feeling content. "Just like I want them to know that I'm yours, too."


	20. Dreaming (Hanamaki/Oikawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4592817#cmt4592817): _Remember when Hanamaki had four dreams in a row about Oikawa but never knew who he was in real life? (Yet.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 969w

The woods behind Takahiro's family home are a peaceful place to be. The leaves are still heavy with summer rain, the grass wet and soft under their boots, the sound of the running stream in the distance.

Tooru's fingers are warm as they slip in and out of Takahiro's grip, because he wants to walk in front. He looks over his shoulder with a smile, squeezing Takahiro's fingers between his, and his laugh is light and musical, as if to make up for the lack of birdsong.

"You're lost in thought," Tooru murmurs. He stops walking, and Takahiro catches up to him in half a stride. They steady themselves with their hands on each other's hips and Tooru's breath is warm as it ghosts its way along Takahiro's cheek. "I never knew you were such a dreamer, Makki."

With a quiet laugh, Takahiro nuzzles against Tooru's cheek, the tip of his nose skimming along the soft skin. He tightens his grip on Tooru's hips and whispers right into his ear, "You have _no_ idea."

 

—

 

_Picture it: a world tilted on its axis, so that our feet touch the sky_

The first time they meet each other, Tooru glides through the air as if he can fly.

Takahiro doesn't see his face. Takahiro doesn't remember any details about him at all, once he wakes. All he remembers from the dream is that he so badly wanted to fly too. That the more he watched Tooru, the more he felt as if he, too, could fly.

Their hands reach for each other. Their palms are warm against each other. Takahiro's fingers settle against a pulse point that beats at its own erratic, impatient pace. Then, they're drifting apart again, their fingers brushing against each other, warm, slow, until they're connected by nothing but the very tips of their middle fingers.

Takahiro wakes from that dream feeling like his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. He grips his pyjama shirt tightly and feels, with a sudden certainty, that he's meant for something _big_.

 

—

 

"Tell me," Tooru coaxes, his lips on Takahiro's earlobe, fingers in his hair. "I want to know everything."

Takahiro wants to. He would gladly give Tooru everything, if it didn't mean he'd have nothing left.

 

—

 

_Picture it: being underwater for so long that you forget that you need to breathe._

Takahiro is certain that the sea floor doesn't look like his grandmother's living room, only filled with water.

His dream, however, insists that this is what it is. He goes with it. He doesn't know how teacups work underwater, or why he can still taste the bitter green tea that his grandmother likes best, but he doesn't question that either.

He doesn't even question it when a beautiful boy swims past, looks at him, and reaches his hand out again.

_Again_ , Takahiro thinks at the time. That's a funny way of putting it.

He closes his hand around the boy's this time, pulls him close.

Their lips meet, but instead of kissing, he breathes air into Takahiro's lungs, filling them for the first time in what feels like forever.

He wakes up gasping, drenched in sweat even though it wasn't a bad dream at all.

He lies awake in the few minutes he has before his alarm, touching his fingers to his lips in wonder.

 

—

 

" _Please_ ," Tooru urges. "Just give me a hint. A hint!"

"They're dreams," Takahiro says, against Tooru's lips this time. "Hints aren't going to help."

 

—

 

_Picture it: being in the middle of a fire, but feeling perfectly at peace_.

This time, Takahiro doesn't dream about the boy coming to him. He's already there.

They stand there, hand in hand, as everything falls apart around them in a burning wreckage.

It doesn't matter, Takahiro thinks. Nothing bad is going to happen. He knows that, he can tell from the boy's smile. Again, Takahiro doesn't remember details, doesn't remember anything beyond the fact that it's a smile that makes him feel safe and sure, but more than that, it makes him feel invincible. It's the kind of smile that convinces him that he can do anything.

He wakes, and immediately shuts his eyes again, wanting to go back, wanting to feel that powerful again.

 

—

 

"They were just nonsensical dreams," Takahiro murmurs, and it's started drizzling again. He can feel the raindrops pattering along his arm, but he doesn't move. "But if you insist that badly…"

Tooru pulls back just a little, and smiles.

 

—

 

_Picture it: being infinite, being empty, being whole, being endless_.

Takahiro isn't sure that he's in this dream at all. Perhaps he's just watching it. Perhaps he's there but he can't tell, because it's from his own perspective, for once.

He's in space, floating freely, and the boy isn't a boy, but an entire galaxy, unbound energy that Takahiro has no means and no hopes of measuring.

He doesn't reach out. He's held from all sides, supported, lifted, until he feels like he extends into infinity himself. He's planets and their orbits. He's the stars and their warmth. He's everything and nothing, and he isn't alone. The faceless boy, truly faceless this time is right there with him—hands warm against each other, lips soft against each other, smiles encouraging each other—and it's terrifying and exhilarating, all at once.

He wakes up with his mind spinning so much that he nearly forgets that it's his first day of high school.

 

—

 

"You were in every single one of them," Takahiro tells him, peppering kisses all over Tooru's face. "I don't know how I knew it was you, but you were there."

Tooru is still smiling, and holds the back of Takahiro's head, pulling him into a hard kiss. "I'm in this one, too."


	21. Requirement (Hanamaki/Matsukawa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4693681#cmt4693681): _Remember when they found the Room of Requirement during their third year and it was always full of Dungbombs, Skiving Snackboxes and other prank items they kept using with delight (and to the terror of everyone else)?  
>  (When during their fifth year among all that they somehow started finding books for O.W.L.s and blanktes for study sessions? When during the sixth year they noticed that the items slowly stopped to replenish themselves? When during the seventh year the Room became completely empty, because all they needed was just each other?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G; 497w

They're thirteen years old, and when they stumble across the room, it's full of pranks—the kind that one would find at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and they just turn to each other with matching grins, ready to wreak havoc.

No matter how many times their dungbombs and fanged frisbees get confiscated, there are always more waiting for them. There's honestly nothing in the entire castle that Takahiro and Issei need more than this, sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up and make grand plans for their next pranks, sometimes even planning them weeks in advance, just so that they can slowly set things up without anyone realising.

Tooru is their favourite target; they catch him with nose biting teacups and boxing telescopes. They don't just stop there, though, and the entire school quickly learns to be wary whenever they're both seen together, wearing identical smirks.

—

They're fifteen years old when they're in the room to replenish their supply of tricks, both of them silently worrying about their upcoming exams.

Takahiro makes a soft sound of surprise, pushing aside a new set of skiving snackboxes, picking up the transfiguration textbook underneath.

He holds it out to Issei, his eyebrow raised, and they spend that afternoon sitting in the library together instead, heads bowed over the book that explains transfiguration much easier than their actual assigned textbook does.

When they return to the room later, to put the book back, they find more textbooks, neatly stacked to the side, with warm blankets that come in handy later that day, when they're both up late, huddled together in front of the fire in the common room, studying hard for their exams.

To the dismay and disappointment of everyone around them, the pranks don't entirely stop, even when they're both busy studying. They have a reputation to uphold, after all, and when the room is still supplying them with countless new tricks, they're not going to let any of it go to waste.

—

They're sixteen, and Issei is the first to notice that the room isn't replenishing their supply of tricks any more.

It doesn't matter, they both decide. They're busy with their schoolwork, and there are plenty of pranks that they can pull with magic alone, if they so choose.

Besides, Takahiro reasons, with their increasingly busy schedules, it means that they don't have as much time to spend together. Spending that time planning pranks might be fun, but—

But—

"But there are other things we could be doing with our time," Issei finishes for him, taking hold of Takahiro's wrists, keeping them still as he leans in.

The room of requirement is designed to hold whatever is needed by those who find it. Takahiro and Issei, with their arms slowly wrapping around each other, kissing each other for the first time, realise that there's only one thing that they need now, and it's not something that can be given to them by the room.


End file.
